Critical Point
by SwingOfThings
Summary: Something weird has been going on with Stiles lately... And that something, he's realizing, is Derek Hale.
1. Chapter 1

Derek Hale grasped the steering wheel of his black-as-sin Camaro so tightly his knuckles lost all color, turning a frightening shade of ghost white. The little red needle on the speedometer neared 120, but Derek only egged the engine on further instead of taking his foot off the gas. Trees sped by so quickly that they ceased to remain as trees, just shapeless blurs of forest green that further clouded his mind. And with the music blaring so loud that much less sensitive human ears would bleed, one thought crossed the werewolf's mind.

_I'm going to kill him._

The engine screeched around the turn in the road. Somehow, the angry noise seemed to be the one thing he needed to hear—the flourish at the end of a perfect idea. A smile folded across the stubbly jaw of the man at the wheel. Exhilaration flooded his veins and his heart pounded to the beat of the deafening stereo. "I'm going to kill him," he said, this time aloud. The words were invigorating, and seemed to keep him going, driving along the black pavement at a murderous speed. Slowly, the smile disappeared and a look of pure disdain replaced it. Under his breath, Derek Hale spoke once more, eyes flashing a brilliant blue in the tainted moonlight. "I'm going to kill him."

The muttered words came spilling out of his lips and brought back the memory, the reason his ears rang from the deafening music and the needle of his speedometer grazed the edge of the red zone. Even though he was sure he was alone on the winding California road, he spared a quick glance in the rearview mirror to make sure. Only darkness returned his crystal blue stare. With eyes squeezed tight, he edged his foot off the gas pedal only to slam it with full force down upon the breaks seconds later. The jolt that sent the car to a screeching halt thrust Derek's entire body forward against the feeble seatbelt, but as his back hit against the seat again he reveled in the sudden pain. Anything to keep those warm brown eyes out of his mind. Because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about them. Those damn brown eyes.

...

Stiles Stilinski sat in his bedroom. Alone. For the first time in weeks, actually. The hum of his laptop rang through as the only sound in the space, besides that of Stiles' breathing and the sound of his fingers drumming against his own stomach as he lay back on the bed. He guessed, after he really thought about it, that technically he'd been alone in his room on nights like this plenty of times in the past few weeks. Only, then he had had things on his mind that kept the wheels constantly spinning and turning and giving him things to worry about, to put together, things that made the time fly by until he would physically crash into a dead sleep. And each morning, the pleasure of being resurrected by the sound of an alarm was all his, along with the start of another day that became so filled with activity he never truly felt alone.

But now seemed different.

The calm whirring of whatever complex computer parts lived inside the laptop resonated through the room, and Stiles just sighed and laid his head back on the pillows, staring at the Glow in the Dark stars on his ceiling. He wasn't sure how many nights he had spent staring at these stars and thinking, hoping madly that something exciting in his life would happen. A puff of air escaped his lips and his hands came to rest behind his head as a solid thought escaped his mind. _Yeah, something exciting has happened Alright._ Something that now consumed every second of his time, and had been for the past two months with no breaks in between. An unconscious smirk graced Stiles' pink lips when he remembered just how cool this 'something exciting' turned out to be. His best friend, turned into a freaking werewolf? How much more awesome can it get? Not to mention the werewolf hunters, a killer Alpha wolf and terrifyingly Godlike creature Derek Hale entering his life as well.

"Oh… Derek." He said aloud, releasing a restrained exhale of breath at the end. He had expected his thoughts would come to this subject eventually. Somehow, they always did.

"Derek." He said again. The sound of the name repeatedly played itself through Stiles' thoughts, several half-hearted attempts to clear the man from his head failing him. A silver moon hung outside his bedroom window that stood wide open, letting a breeze wash through the room. Shivers ran themselves down Stiles' spine, but from the breeze, or something else? _Someone_ _else…_ he subconsciously corrected. His thoughts flicked back to the mere hours before when he'd found Derek to be standing, uninvited, in his bedroom. There had been the awkward conversation with his dad about his first lacrosse game before he'd really had a chance to react to Derek's presence. Usually Stiles could talk to his dad easily, but the kid had barely been able to form a word when he knew the werewolf waited on the other side of his bedroom door… and the next thing he knew, the godlike creature that was Derek Hale had Stiles up against the wall. He barely noticed, he was so consumed by his thoughts, but Stiles' pulse rose slightly and a pink blush colored his cheeks at the memory. The smile, however, had completely disappeared from the teen's expression.

Derek's voice then filled his mind.

"_If you say ONE word—" the man growled, eyes just spitting threats that Stiles knew he really should heed._

"_What, you mean like 'Hey Dad, Derek Hale's in my room. Bring your gun.'?" The words were spoken against his better judgment, Stiles knew. A part inside of him screamed at his head to back down, but now that the words had left his mouth, there was no point shying away. His breaths came staggered and deep; Derek did something to him, way beneath his gut. Not sure of it being fear, or something much worse, he stuck by the sarcastic words. Even if Derek did somehow affect him in strange ways, something about him seemed to challenge Stiles as well. He wanted to beat the wolf at his own game._

_Derek's eyes deepened just the slightest bit when he heard the kid's lightning-fast reply... Softened a little in respect for him. His grip on the dark grey jacket loosened and a warm breath the kid had been unconsciously holding staggered out through his open mouth. The werewolf felt it wash over him, and let out a steady breath himself, eyes glued to the teenager's unmeeting gaze. "That's right." Stiles continued, eyes focused on Derek's lips like the next words they said could make or break him. "If I'm harboring your fugitive ass—" He breathed, allowing his warm brown eyes finally coming up to stare confidently into the werewolf's jaded green ones, "—it's _my_ house, _my_ rules, Buddy."_

The fluffy pillow squished to fit the change in pressure as Stiles rolled over into it. A muffled "AGHPFTUGHGRRRRAAHHH!" filled the blue walls, then a deep sigh, a few punches to the pillow, and he collapsed his heavy head back onto its abused surface again. The memory felt like a movie in his head that he couldn't turn off, just had to watch play repeatedly and fall victim to the thoughts that ensued.

_Derek, who'd had Stiles' body pressed tight against the wall for what felt like ages, watched as his expression morphed into a look that could only read as "Please, don't kill me!" Without dropping the eye contact, he drew back his hand and lowered it from the boy's shoulder. Much to his surprise, Stiles felt a sharp tug on his jacket front— Derek's way of saying "Alright, Stiles. You win." The dork just couldn't help but pull up a full-drawn cocky smile as he returned the favor, Derek's leather jacket making a similar snapping noise to his own. Stiles removed himself from the wall. Maybe this guy wasn't so scary, after all? Of course, he'd had to go and ruin the fuzzy moment right afterwards by getting all up in Stiles' face again, giving him the jump of his life… He retreated to the chair by his desk with a flutter in his stomach that couldn't seem to slow down._

And that was as far as Stiles' trip down memory lane cared to go for that moment. A miniature smile broke from his lips despite the fact, followed by a small laugh as he remembered the orange and blue striped shirt that lay on his dresser, tossed carelessly aside by the same Derek Hale that had shoved him against the far wall. He'd felt the strange butterflies then too, when "Miguel" discarded his shirt to the grey carpeted floor, but had been having way too much fun messing with both him and Danny to pay much mind to them.

Stiles bit his fist. Then screwed his eyes shut and punched himself in the head, attempting to wipe the smile from his _stupid_ face. Whatever this feeling was, it came back to him stronger with every second the shirtless werewolf remained in his mind.

"Oh, who am I trying to kid?" came the whispered words from a warm mouth beneath the pillows. Derek's face appeared in the teenager's mind and his stomach swirled with curiosity and anticipation. Even thought he may look it sometimes, Stiles Stilinski was not stupid.

As uncomfortable as it was for Stiles to think about another man the way he had been Derek the past few days, something about the guy just mesmerized him. He just seemed so dangerous. The way his eyes stared so intently into those of his victims of conversation, the way his lips formed every word perfectly, with so much power. The way his hands felt against Stiles' chest, even with his dad not 100 feet away from the closed door…

_BRRRIING BRRIINGGG BRRRIIINNGGGG!_

"AAGGGH! – Oof!"

_BRRRRIIINNG BRRINNG!_

… "Owww…"

_BBRRIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!_

"Alright, already!" muttered Stiles from the carpeted, yet surprisingly hard, floor beside his bed. His head throbbed from the spazz-induced fall he'd made at the blaring noise of his cell phone. It pulsed and rang on the covers. With one hand on his forehead, and another searching for the obnoxious source of the ringing, Stiles heaved himself up onto the bed and pressed talk. "Hello?" – No answer, then _Ding!_ The phone went off right in his ear. Stiles swore under his breath and moved his hand from his throbbing head, to his now ringing ear. The words **Missed Call from Scott** met his unhappy gaze, and he couldn't help from rolling his eyes. Can't a guy get a minute to himself every once in awhile? But, after a short internal debate about whether or not he should just turn the stupid thing off and give himself a minute to relax with his thoughts, Stiles only had one thing to say.

"This had better be good, Scott." And he pressed the green button, redialing his best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys!**

**Sorry it's been such a long time since I last updated... I've been sort of brain dead on ideas.**

**Like literally, I have a seven page document of just the extra pieces of what I tried to start as this next chapter, and they were all crap. So I haven't been slacking off, promise. I'm just trying to really give you all something worth reading:)**

**Just a warning, this chapter doesn't have any Derek/Stiles action in it. But I promise the next chapter will! I've got some great ideas and I needed this to set the rest of the story up. I thought about making this chapter into basically two chapters and begin the next part, but I figured you've all waited about two weeks to find out what happens next and it's about time I give you something.**

**I promise I'll try to update faster in the future! Oh, and just so you know... I'm sure you get this at the beginning of every story, but the reviews you guys send me really do keep me motivated. Shannon1036, it was your comment you left the other day that gave me the last push to get this next chapter published. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW ME!**

**Oh, and ImmaBeLEAFer(I hope that's how you spell your username) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THAT REVIEW! I love you.**

**Review me! Tell me if you're liking what I'm writing! Send me ideas!**

**Oh, and one last little thing... I'm basing the events in this story up to what happened in Lunatic. I think that's episode ten. So just keep that in mind as you're reading.**

**SwingOfThings**

_**The Next Day:**_

The familiar hustle of the crowded Beacon Hill's High School hallway enveloped Stiles' senses: The sights of hundreds of kids socializing by their lockers, the sounds of their chatter and the scuff of their shoes across the floor, the overwhelming relief of the air conditioned atmosphere cooling his sticky skin from the sweat blistering sun… Though it didn't happen often, at times like this, Stiles really wished he had the acutely heightened senses that came as perks for being a werewolf. Super sensitive hearing would sure come in handy to help him find his best friend. For the hundredth time in the past eight hours, Stiles tried his friend's phone, and for the hundredth time in the past eight hours, got his voicemail. "Where the hell are you, Scott?" he said under his breath. This wasn't like him.

Scott hadn't answered his phone last night. And now, it looked like he wasn't in school. The teenager sighed and hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder. His steady footsteps scuffed their way over to locker number 214, eyes scanning the crowd as they went. Scott was probably skipping again—it definitely wouldn't be his first time to pull something like this. No reason to worry, right? If it weren't for the Alpha situation, Stiles probably wouldn't be uptight about this at all, but with his dad being the Sherriff of the town, the teenager got a whole hell of a lot more information on the killings than the average person did. He also had the unique situation of being one of the few people to know the truth about the attacks—to know about the alpha without being a werewolf himself. Though he would never tell Scott this, sometimes that fact scared him. What would happen if the alpha had him cornered, and Scott wasn't around to save the day? A shudder shook Stiles' body in response, and he made the extra few steps to his locker quickly and slammed his head against the surface. Stupid, stupid werewolves.

Stiles raised his hand to his head and brushed through his buzz cut with open fingers. "I really need to get a life…" he muttered to himself, raising his glance towards the direction of his first period. Just then, a mane of strawberry blonde curls he'd been fantasizing over since third grade caught his eye. Within seconds, Scott and all the problems that came with him completely left his mind, replaced by thoughts of her.

"God…" he sighed. Lydia Martin. With her envy green eyes peeking out from underneath jet black lashes, long hair curling softly just above her waist, and today, a floral silk print dress hitting mid-thigh, revealing just enough of those ivory legs to make Stiles crazy. How any guy wouldn't want her, the brunette would never understand. She stood, leaning casually against the far wall, talking to one of her many admirers. Between two fingers she twirled a lock of hair, around and around and around. At that sight an inner battle ensued, the same battle that Stiles fought every day of his freaking life. _"Go get off your lazy ass and talk to her, you idiot!" "No. NO! If she likes you, she'll come and talk to you… If not, you'll be saved from the crushing humiliation of being rejected." "She'll never know if she likes you or not if you don't go talk to her." "But she has a boyfriend!" _Quickly, Stiles twisted the lock on his locker three times and yanked the metal handle. The door swung open, making a perfect place to hide from the girl down the hall.

A sort of grab-it-and-go set up stared him back from the inside of the metal space. The few books that weren't already in Stiles' grey and silver backpack leaned lazily against one side, along with several folders of papers he really should have gotten rid of last term, and an empty lunchbox he never used sat against the far wall. It was everything a normal Beacon Hills high schooler would have in their locker… with the exception of the book on intensive werewolf lure he'd checked out at the public library a month ago. Surprisingly, Stiles kept his locker pretty clean. It made finding the things he needed a hundred times easier—well, besides the balls that it took to finally go up and talk to Lydia. He still had trouble finding those.

With the ring of the final bell, the rest of the hallway occupants ran off to class. _Where is he?_ Stiles thought. Scott always stopped by his locker in the morning, way before the five minute bell rang… and here, the late bell had just gone off, with still no sign on the guy. The sleek silver phone in Stiles' pocket just begged to be pulled out, to try contacting his best friend one last time, but Stiles knew it was no use. With a sigh, he threw a book from his bag on the top shelf and accepted that if Scott had an emergency, he would find a way to call.

Suddenly, the locker door was thrown shut. Stiles barely had enough time to get his hands out to avoid them being crushed by—

"LYDIA?" His warm brown eyes just about popped out of their sockets in surprise at the strawberry blonde standing not two feet in front of him. Stiles couldn't help but notice the smirk on her rosy lips, and in reaction, blushed. God, he loved her smile.

"You're Scott's friend." She said, her envy eyes boring deep into his. It wasn't a question.

"Uh… Yeah." Stiles replied. The air he'd been unconsciously holding escaped his lungs and he leaned against his locker, trying to look casual. Really, he just needed the extra support.

"Well, I need to talk to him."

"Um. Okaayyy...?" Pink painted fingernails came up to play with another stray lock of curls as Lydia continued to stare. Honestly, he could look at that pretty little body all day, especially with this up-close range he rarely got to experience. But she'd come up to talk to him for a reason… Stiles shifted his weight onto his other hip, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the fact he obviously was missing.

"And, uh…" he continued, getting no further response from the girl. "…_Why_ are you telling me this?"

"Do you know where he is?" She asked, rolling her eyes like she shouldn't have to ask for him to know her intended question.

"No, actually. I don't." said Stiles, relaxing a little and melting into those eyes. For some reason, the question put him back more in his element. At least he didn't have to think to know what to say to her next. With a breath, he continued. "I've called him like a bajillion times this morning, but he hasn't answered."

Lydia just stared at him, thinking. What about, Stiles had no clue. He was completely content, however, just to stand there and observe the gorgeous girl in front of him. By habit, a slender hand came up to her blonde curls and flipped them back, sending a whiff of vanilla and strawberry Stiles' way. He inhaled deeply and cast his eyes down to the floor, a hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Lydia smelled amazing, and she looked even better. Figuring that staring for too long would be rude and slightly creepy, the floor stood as the only other option for Stiles to rest his gaze. _Damn,_ he thought. _She has cute feet, too._

"You were there at the school that night, weren't you?"

Her light, feminine voice quickly snapped the teen out of his thoughts. "Yeah, I uh, I was… there. Yeah." Lydia pursed her lips and nodded in reply.

"And you came over to my house, after me and Jacks… Ah, after the attack at the video store."

Stiles' open mouthed expression of shock quickly folded into place. When he didn't make any other attempts to respond, she added a quick—"Right?"—to the end of her statement. Realizing she was waiting for a reply, Stiles shook himself out of the momentary state of shock he'd gone into. Who could blame him, after barely a word for seven years from her and now Lydia was actually here, remembering all these details about him? And even more surprisingly, here she stood, waiting for him to say something, and all Stiles could do was stand there like an idiot. He nodded quickly, screwed his eyes shut and willed himself to form some kind of response to her unanswered question.

"Yeah, that was me. I'm surprised you remembered… You were pretty zonked."

A short laugh couldn't help but burst from his throat. The memory of Lydia knocked up on pain killers stood front and center in his mind, a memory he couldn't help but giggle at. Much to his surprise, Lydia actually laughed too. The feeling it created in his heart to see her laugh like that, at something he'd said, gave him a few fuzzies here and there. He really did love her smile.

Just then, something hit Stiles square in the face.

"Wait…. Lydia?" he said, confusion obvious in his expression.

"Yeah?" Her smile remained even through the word. Stiles' butterflies fluttered around a few times as he remembered what he wanted to ask her.

"Why didn't you just ask Allison where Scott was? You're, like, best friends, right? And they're sort of dating, so…" His words trailed off, knowing she got the point.

"Oh." Lydia said, leaving all traces of laughter in the second before. A look of uncertainty pulled on her face as well. "Allison hasn't been answering her phone. That's why I wanted to talk to Scott in the first place."

"Oh, right… Wait." Lydia masked her expression with one of innocence, but Stiles knew she was hiding something. "Umm… Lydia? Didn't I just tell you that I'd already called Scott, and he didn't answer—?"

"Yeah, you did. God, they're probably skipping again." Stiles looked bewildered as Lydia continued talking. She was completely oblivious to the dumbstruck boy in front of her, though; her manicure proved to be much more interesting at the moment. Stiles squinted his eyes in attempt to understand why Lydia continued to talk to him. It didn't make any sense.

"I mean, I can understand Scott ditching, but you'd think Allison would have a higher respect for her grades, you know? Especially with all the moving around she's done… It's hard to keep an A if you don't show up for class." At the end of her sprawl, Lydia's envy green eyes came back up to Stiles'. "What?" She asked. When it came to reading Stiles' facial expressions, Lydia was rather inexperienced.

"I just, umm…" He said, meeting her eyes once more and shoving a hand in his pocket. "I just… Don't really understand why you're still talking to me."

Much to Stiles' great surprise, Lydia looked hurt. Her eyebrows pulled together, and her bottom lip came out into a strawberry-laced pout that Stiles only wished he could kiss away. "Why, do you want me to leave?" she asked, the usual sassy tone slid quickly back into place, leaving Stiles amazed at how rapidly Lydia regained her stuck-up composure.

"No, of course not." That was the furthest away she could get from what Stiles wanted. "Honestly. It's just, you've barely said a word to me for seven years, and now you're here talking to me, and it's just kind of hard to believe." Despite his best defense, a warm blush colored Stiles cheeks at the confession. Lydia only smiled, then raised the fingers to his chest and walked them up to rest on his shoulder. He drew in a staggered breath at the light contact. He didn't know if he should touch her back, or just pretend like she hadn't touched him, or… How do you respond to a hot girl laying her hand on your shoulder? Stiles breathed, and attempted to clear his head. This was a very big deal for him, after waiting for her touch since third grade. _I wonder what Scott will say?_

"What was your name, again?"

Once again, Lydia's light voice brought the teenager back down to earth. Of course, he'd introduced himself a thousand times before, but she obviously hadn't cared enough to remember. Now she actually wanted to know his name. "It's Stiles." He replied, not minding much for having to tell her.

"Stiles..." Lydia hummed and cocked her head to one side. "So, Stiles." She sang, her voice airy and sweetly seductive. "Do you have a car?"

"Umm… Yeah?" Stiles couldn't think of any reason she might ask that… other than, well... Other than the first thing that came to his mind when a girl asked him if he had a car. And he knew that definitely was not what she'd been thinking.

With that, Lydia shoved the hand she had on Stiles' shoulder backwards, landing him flat against the lockers. Stiles watched her go, strutting down the hall with her heels clicking against the floor and not bothering to look back. Whatever she was trying to do, Stiles didn't understand any of it. Had he done something wrong? What did she need with his car? And most importantly, what was he doing, just standing and watching her go?

Lydia then turned on her heels to stare at the boy she'd left leaning by the lockers. "Aren't you coming?" she cooed, before laughing and resuming her trek down the empty hallway. The sound of Stiles scrambling to catch up with her echoed inside the walls. If she had looked back, Lydia would have noticed the ear to ear grin in Stiles' expression, but instead she felt the warm presence of a boy quite a bit taller than her beside her shoulder. She didn't look up to greet him, just heaved the main door open and carried herself down the steps like the princess she was.

"Which one's yours?" she asked, scanning the parking lot with squinted eyes.

Stiles pointed to the nearest section of filled spaces. "It's the blue Jeep right over there."

"Nice."

He literally had to run to catch up with her—Lydia traveled like fire on those red heels. They reached the Jeep at roughly the same time, Stiles pulling the passenger door open for the strawberry blonde beside him. She climbed in and slammed the door closed, with Stiles doing the same on the driver's side moments later. "So, where are we going?"

The seatbelt clicked, and the boy's heart pounded to the sound of the window rolling down.

"To find Scott and Allison, of course." Lydia replied after fumbling with the window button. She looked back at him, a sparkling look in her eye. "Where did you think we were going?"

With a turn of the Stiles' key, the Jeep roared to life beneath them. "I honestly had no clue." He told her. Even Lydia knew the smile on that face could only mean trouble, and she, in response, just barely smiled herself.

"Oh really?"

"Really." Stiles assured, and sped out of the parking lot. "You've been surprising me all day."


End file.
